Page 14 of Cut Off
My heart does a triple axel. I set my thermos down carefully, buying precious seconds to compose myself. I’m suddenly aware of a loose thread on my cardigan that I’m fighting the urge to pull.
“I told you,” I say, my voice impressively steady. “False lead.” I can’t run, but I can lie when necessary. And right now, it’s very, very necessary.
“Mm-hmm.” Marcus nods, his eyes never leaving mine. “What if I told you Donny has his own connections at the station? Would you stick to that story?”
Donny finally looks up, his smug face practically glowing with triumph.
I take a deep breath. “Look, I just need more time.”
“So you lied,” Donny barks, sitting up straighter.
“I wanted to confirm before I said anything,” I hedge, which this time, isn’t actually a lie. I had no confirmation of what happened. Only the conclusion I drew from what I saw, which, on its own, would be irresponsible reporting.
Marcus leans back in his chair, folding his arms across his chest. “You were burying a big story about Jonah Holt.”
And there it is. The bomb I’ve been dreading since I spotted Donny’s light on.
“There’s a big difference between burying a story and giving it a day for confirmation.” I dig deep for my most reasonable, professional tone.
Marcus’s face twists. “A day in this business is a lifetime. It gives another network the chance to steal possibly the biggest story of the year out from under us.” His jaw twitches. “Tell us what’s going on now so Donny can report it.”
My eyes bulge. “Donny? Why Donny?” I glance at him, incredulous. “You’resports.”
Donny leans forward. “Because Jonah Holt’s a hockey player, duh. And I’m the one who found out the truth, and I want it.”
I bite back several responses, none of them workplace-appropriate.
“Why do you care who gets it?” Marcus adds. “Just do your job and produce it.”
My brain spins. Donny Dexter. Getting the story of a hockey star discovering he has a son? The story that, if handled poorly, could traumatize a child who’s already lost his mother? Not to mention how it could derail Jonah’s career when he’s already struggling?
Nope. No can do. Donny doesn’t deserve it, but more importantly, I can’t stand what this would do to Jonah and Eli if it’s not handled right. I need to negotiate, buy time.
“Give it until tomorrow.” I try to sound reasonable rather than desperate. “Then we have time to prep Jonah for an interview so he can get ahead of the story.”
Marcus’s face turns a disturbing shade of purple. “Lane, this story is going out today with or without your cooperation.”
I take a deep breath. “Okay, fine, then let me tell Jonah and prep him for an interview to tell hisownstory. More exclusive content for us, more dignity for him.”
Marcus slams his palm on the desk, making his KBVR “Manager of the Year” paperweight hop an inch. “We don’t want to tell Jonah. Whatever it is will be a lot better without him watering it down. He can come on air and give his side after. Ratings gold.”
I gasp, genuinely shocked even though I shouldn’t be. “That’s a horrible thing to do to a local hero just for ratings. KBVR is better than that.”
Marcus shrugs, his shoulders rising and falling with the practiced indifference of someone who sold his soul long ago. “KBVR won’t be around to sit on its moral high ground if we don’t do something big.”
My stomach feels like I’ve swallowed a live snake. I blink, shocked, though should I be? Marcus turned on Sydney on a dime, and to help Donny out. Those two are obviously so tight Marcus can’t see that he’s a puppy following a squirrel into traffic. “There are so many things KBVR can do to boost ratings that don’t involve abandoning all scruples and turning our reporting into an inhumane gossip rag. Sorry, but I won’t be a part of breaking this story.”
“I see.” Marcus shrugs again. “You clearly don’t have the producer instincts I thought you had. Pack your things. It’s clear we have irreconcilable differences in our visions for the network.”
Wait. What?
I gasp. “You’refiringme?”
“You’ve left me no choice.”
I’m blinking like gnats just flew into my eyes, but I can’t stop.
Six-day weeks, overnight shifts, and running after stories in everything from blizzards to heat waves. Four years of doing things like making Donny look competent on air when he can barely read the teleprompter without moving his lips. “I’ve given this network four years of my life.” My voice is surprisingly steady, considering my insides feel like they’re in a blender.
